Payback
by PsychoticDemonic
Summary: Arthur had gotten the customary birthday presents this year same as he always did. Spain got him tomatoes, the Italies got him pasta. Also, as per usual, Alfred hadn't sent a present. That is, until the door bell rings at 8 AM the next morning. UK/US


Arthur had gotten the customary birthday presents this year, same as he did every year. France gave him some kind of sex toy. Spain gave him tomatoes. The Italies gave him pasta. Russia sent an invitation to become one with him. Japan sent a miniature unicorn. And on and on, through the nations of the world.

Also, as per usual, Alfred hadn't sent a present.

Now, on the day after his birthday, Arthur sipped his morning tea calmly, reading over the newspaper as he did.

_Ding dong~_

Arthur looked up, wondering who would think it was a good idea to ring his doorbell at eight in the morning on a Saturday. 'Alfred,' his mind supplied. Arthur ignored his mind and stood up, tea in hand, to open the door.

When he did, there was a large box, wrapped in white with blue stars wrapping paper and red and white striped ribbon. 'Alfred,' his mind told him again. Arthur picked up the note on the top of the box.

"Iggy," Arthur read to himself, cringing at the nickname. "Here's your present. Consider it payback for the last time you gave me a present. The Hero, Alfred F Jones." England furrowed his eyebrows, putting the note on the table in the entryway then opening the box.

A punching glove sprung out, slamming into his face and knocking his tea cup, spilling his tea onto the sweater vest he was wearing.

"Bloody git," Arthur growled turning back into his house, punching glove and box still on the front step.

A few doors down the street, a certain bomber jacket wearing nation narrowed his eyes in thought.

Several minutes later, Arthur sipped his new cup of tea, trying to remain calm, holding a bag of ice to his face in between sips.

_Ding dong~_

Arthur glanced suspiciously at the door, figuring whoever was there would just go away and assume he wasn't home when he didn't answer. The doorbell didn't ring again for several minutes.

_Ding dong~_

Arthur stood up, reasoning that it must be rather important if they rang the doorbell more than once. When he opened the door and looked out, he saw another box on the step, this one flatter and smaller.

He picked it up, reading the note on the top.

"Iggy." Arthur cringed again. "Sorry about your tea, didn't know you'd be holding any. Hopefully this makes up for it. The hero, Alfred F Jones."

Arthur opened the box, blinking in surprise at the contents. It was a new green sweater vest, from his favorite store.

He turned back into his house, bringing the box with him.

A few doors down the street, a certain blond haired nation pumped his fist into the air in victory.

A few minutes later, Arthur sipped his now slightly cold cup of tea, wearing his new sweater vest.

_Ding dong~_

This time Arthur got up immediately, a slight spring in his step as he walked to the door and opened it. There was no box, only a piece of paper folded in half once.

"Fucking Limey," Arthur read out. This had to be from Alfred as well, if the red, white, and blue stars in the corner were any indication. He stood there, glaring in rage at the paper. He turned around and slammed the door, going back into his house.

A few doors down, a certain bomber jacket wearing nation facepalmed angrily.

The doorbell rang a minute or two later, just as Arthur was finishing cleaning up the ashes from the note he burned. He stepped outside again, seeing yet another box on his front step.

"Iggy. This should help. Seriously. Use it. The Hero, Alfred F Jones. P.S.- Sorry, the last one was from Tony. Not me. Scout's honor."

Arthur picked up the box, taking off the top and reading the title of the book inside.

"I do not need fucking 'Cooking for Kids'!" he shouted, storming back into his house with the book in hand.

A few doors down, a certain blond haired nation laughed out loud.

Arthur sipped his third cup of tea, angrily glaring at the cookbook propped up on his counter.

_Ding dong~_

Arthur didn't move.

_Ding dong~_

Arthur turned his glare to the door, taking a sip of tea.

_Ding dong ding dong~_

Arthur huffed angrily, standing up to get the door.

_Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong ding d—_

Arthur wrenched the door open, seeing a blur of brown and blond. He blinked, seeing someone run down the street before turning his eyes to the present on his step. He picked up the note.

"Iggy. This is for all of these I've broken. Last time I checked the count was at 23, so that's how many I got. The Hero, Alfred F Jones."

Arthur opened the box, his eyes widening as he looked at the contents. Inside were 23 tea cups and their saucers, all of a different floral print. He picked up the box, still incredulous, closing the door behind him.

A few doors down, a certain blue eyed nation smiled to himself.

Arthur sipped tea from one of his new cups, looking at the way they all fit perfectly on the shelf.

_Ding dong~_

Arthur sighed, wondering when this was going to stop.

He opened the door, seeing a box, bigger than the first one, on his front step. A note was tapped to its side, which Arthur grabbed.

"Iggy. Thought you'd want some of it back after these 237 years. The Hero, Alfred F Jones."

Arthur remembered back to that time, when Alfred was starting to rebel in pieces and small movements, before his revolution started. He opened the box, revealing box upon box of tea. Every time he enjoyed was there. Now Arthur understood completely. This was the supposed to represent the tea Alfred had dumped into his Boston Harbor in that horrendous Boston Tea Party. And Alfred was trying to give him back some of it, even if he couldn't give back all of it.

He pulled the box into his house, closing the door behind him.

A few doors down, a certain hero obsessed nation let a wild grin spread across his face.

Arthur sipped his new tea from his new teacup, wondering how he'd fit all of it into his pantry.

The doorbell didn't ring.

Arthur prepared lunch, making a new cup of tea to go with it.

The doorbell still hadn't rung.

Arthur took his next cup of the day at tea time, setting out a tray of scones as well.

The doorbell didn't ring.

Arthur grudgingly tried his new cookbook for dinner, taking yet more tea.

The doorbell didn't ring.

It was only as Arthur was watching the news after dinner that the doorbell finally rung. He jumped up, opening the door quickly.

A miniscule box sat on his step, the note that he picked up bigger than the box.

"Iggy. I don't think I need to explain this one. Just go up to your room. The Hero, Alfred F Jones."

Arthur picked up the box, pulling the lid off. He blinked down at the contents. It was a tube of lube. Arthur wanted to scream and throw it down the street at the complete idiocy of his former colony. Instead he stared in shock at the lube, still unbelieving of the terrible audacity of his former colony. Even as he was shocked beyond words, the idea excited him. Alfred waiting for him, wanting him enough to try and settle all the wrongs between them, even down to broken teacups. Arthur licked his lips, wondering what the taller nation's would feel like against his, against his neck, against his…

Arthur stood in front of his bedroom door less than a minute later after that last thought. He opened the door slowly, hesitantly, eyebrows raising when he finally looked inside.

Alfred was reclining on his bed, wearing only his boxers.

"Happy Birthday, Iggy," Alfred exclaimed, grinning brightly. Arthur stepped further into the room.

"How'd you get up here?" Arthur asked, taking another couple steps forward.

"Window," Alfred replied with a shrug.

"You could've just given me presents normally," Arthur said as he stopped at the edge of his bed.

"Where's the fun in that?" Alfred replied, moving up onto his knees and leaning forward to grin an inch away from the Englishman's face. Arthur joined their lips softly, and it felt as heavenly as he'd imagined it would.

"You could've given them to me yesterday, on my actual birthday."

"Needed to stand out, so I gave them to you today." Alfred joined their lips again, the kiss growing more passionate as time passed. The kiss broke after several minutes, both blonds breathing heavy. "Besides, I couldn't do this with everyone around."

Alfred's arms wound around Arthur's neck, pulling him down onto the bed. Their lips met, mouths opening and tongues sliding together. The kiss broke for a moment as the American pulled Arthur's sweater vest off. The Englishman traced a path down Alfred's cheek and jaw with his lips, tongue flicking randomly against his skin. His lips found the side of his neck, sucking harshly, drawing a deep moan from his new lover.

Alfred pulled at the buttons of the other blond's shirt, managing to get it off without popping off any of the buttons. The Englishman's tie was loosened and tugged off, tossed to the bed next to them. His tan slacks followed soon after, kicked off to the side of the bed.

"Wanted to do this for so long," Alfred gasped as Arthur's hand rubbed against his nipple. He arched up into the touch, eyes closing slightly.

"Me too," Arthur replied breathlessly before his lips covered the other nub, pulling lightly with his teeth. His tongue swirled over it, hand tweaking the other as Alfred moaned under him. Their lips met again, one of Arthur's hands sliding down to dip into the waistband of the American's boxers. Those too were pulled off with a single movement, Arthur's hand gripping Alfred's length.

Alfred let out a choked cry against his lover's lips, hips jerking up and eyes closing. Then his eyes snapped open, Arthur feeling the other's lips curl into a smirk.

Arthur blinked as he suddenly found himself on his back under the American. Alfred's lips molded against his, hands grasping the smaller nation's wrists. Alfred pulled back with another smirk on his lips, and Arthur tried to pull him back down when he realized he couldn't. He looked up, and saw his hands tied to the headboard with the tie he had been wearing earlier, so he could only move his hands about an inch up or down.

"Alfred," he growled, glaring up at the American.

"Don't worry, Iggy. I wouldn't be able to do what I was planning if you could use your hands." Alfred sat up, straddling Arthur's hips, picking up the tube of lube from the bed next to them.

"But it's my birthday!"

"Actually, Iggy, your birthday was yesterday."

"But this is part of my present!"

"Don't worry, I said. You'll like it. Promise." Alfred winked, sliding his body down to straddle the Englishman's lower legs. He leaned forward, tongue peaking out to swipe against the head of the Englishman's length. Arthur's hips jerked as Alfred's hands gripped his hips tightly. The American let just the head into his mouth, sucking lightly, tongue teasing the very tip. He slid down further, tongue flitting against the sides.

Then Alfred uncapped the lube, spreading some on his fingers. He pulled back, and sent Arthur a devilish smirk as the Englishman's eyes opened. Alfred swung his body around, so he was still facing Arthur's erection, but he was now straddling Arthur's shoulders, his hips in the air.

One of Alfred's hands, the one coated in lube, reached behind himself, fingers circling his opening.

"Are you-" Arthur started, cut off by a gasp as Alfred's mouth descended on his length again. Alfred slipped one of his own fingers into his entrance, a moan reverberating around the Englishman's erection. Another finger slipped in almost immediately, Arthur moaning at the sight as Alfred moaned at the sensation.

"Enjoying the view?" Alfred panted, drawing back for a second to speak.

"Yes," Arthur moaned, hands straining at his bonds.

"Told-Ah!" Alfred let out a loud moan as his fingers brushed against his prostate, rocking back onto his own fingers. A third slipped in as he took Arthur back into his mouth.

Alfred stopped his mouth and his fingers, turning around to face Arthur again.

"Ready?" Alfred asked as he raised himself on his knees over Arthur's arousal.

"Yeah," Arthur panted.

Both nations moaned as Alfred lowered himself, back arching. He stayed still for a few seconds to adjust to the sensation, pulling himself off again.

"Alfred," Arthur moaned, eyes falling half shut. Alfred smiled, moaning loudly as Arthur's length brushed against his prostate.

"Arthur," he moaned, started to pick up speed. "Arthur!"

Arthur's hips jerked up to meet his lover's, both moaning.

"I'm close, Arthur," Alfred moaned, head falling back. "I'm so close."  
"So am I," Arthur groaned, hands straining to reach forward and grab his lover.

Alfred whimpered, one of his hands reaching to grasp his own erection, moaning loudly at the dual stimulation. He moved himself faster, rising and falling with urgency.

"Arthur, I'm—"  
"Me too, Alfred…"

They came together, Alfred's hips falling down with a near-scream and Arthur's snapping up with a loud groan. Alfred fell to Arthur's side, snuggling closer to the older nation.

"Happy Birthday, Iggy," Alfred muttered sleepily, eyes closed.

"Thank you, Alfred."

"Did you like your presents?"  
"…were the punching glove and cookbook necessary?"

"Yes." Alfred raised his head and reached under Arthur's bed, pulling out another box. "this is for you too."

Arthur read the open note on the top.

"Iggy. If all goes as planned, then this will serve its purpose. It'll show the World who you belong to. The Hero (and your lover), Alfred F Jones."

Alfred opened the box to show him the present before placing his head back on the smaller nation's chest, breath starting to even out and lighten in sleep within seconds.

Inside was a pair of stars and stripes boxers.

"Alfred," Arthur hissed, glaring down at the sleeping nation. Alfred murmured something in his sleep, shifting closer. Arthur tried to move his arms to shake Alfred, and found he couldn't. He looked up, and saw his hands still tied to his headboard.

"ALFRED!" Arthur yelled.

Alfred threw an arm over the other nation, still asleep.

"Fucking git," Arthur growled, watching Alfred's calm face. Arthur's own glare softened, though the remnants of a pout remained on his lips.

Not only was Arthur stuck with a forgetful, possessive, burger-eating idiot. Of course not. He was stuck with a forgetful, possessive, burger-eating idiot who was too good in bed and too adorable when he was sleeping.


End file.
